


The Broken Tin Heart

by Liberty_Prime



Series: Amicus, Invictus [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blind Betrayal spoilers, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Danse's confession to the SS's friends, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Lots of dialogue, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Blind Betrayal, Slow Build, Swearing, fallout spoilers, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liberty_Prime/pseuds/Liberty_Prime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria was glad to finally spend an evening with her friends after weeks of chaos. It was a perfect time to relax, until an innocent question led to an unexpected confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Sole Survivor AU where my SS Victoria is a 21 year old resident of Vault 111, looking for her younger brother, not her son. Not really relevant in this part, but might be important later.

They sat around the cooking pot, the light from the flames dancing on their faces. It was mostly quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of the ladle scraping the bottom of the metal pot as Preston stirred the soup. Most of the settlers had already hunkered down for the night, and those that were still awake were manning the defenses set up near the bridge and scattered along the river. The air was pleasantly crisp, and the stars shone brightly above them. On a bench beside Victoria’s chair was Hancock, nursing a bottle of beer. He looked as if he’d already been into his evening dose of Jet. Piper was looking bored on the other end of the bench, and Nick sat in a chair beside her, yellow eyes scanning the distant horizon.

It was ample relaxing time, and Victoria was glad. She’d been so overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few weeks- with finding out her close friend and mentor wasn’t what he appeared to be, and subsequently being sent out to kill him- and it was nice to sit and have a meal with the few friends she had and trusted. Even if the lawn chair she sat in was partially broken and sticking into her thigh, and the smoky air made her want to cough up a lung, she was as content as she could be given the situation.

Danse was sitting close to her, their arms almost touching. His normal posture seemed to have lost its rigidity; his back was stooped and his shoulders sagged forward. His dark hair was more of a mess than usual, facial hair unshaved, and there were dark rings under his eyes. He was a mess. Still.

Victoria hoped that a hot meal would help perk him up. She’d been trying her damnedest to help him adjust, but it seemed like for every step forward there were two steps back. Lost in thought, she was brought back to reality as Preston announced that the soup was ready. He poured some into bowls for everyone but Nick, and handed them out individually. Victoria thanked him as he handed her a steaming bowl. Lastly, he ladled some out for himself, and sat back down on the concrete block at the cooking station.

While everyone ate, Valentine lit a cigarette. 

“So, Nicky,” Piper mumbled, mouth half full. “Tell us a story.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What kind of story?”

“I dunno. A detective story. About one of your favorite cases or something.”

It took some convincing, but Nick finally relented and dove into a narrative on one of the cases that stood out the most to him. Victoria was interested, but stopped listening halfway through; she noticed Danse staring unblinking at the fire, like he was a million miles away. Her heart wrenched. So much for the distraction.

The hour grew late as they continued to share stories and tales of their individual adventures, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Victoria stayed mostly quiet, only interacting when addressed directly. Danse barely moved. Eventually they grew quiet. Contemplative. 

“So, what did Tin Man do to get kicked out of the Brotherhood?” Hancock had a twinkle in his dark eyes and he smirked playfully at the former Paladin. Victoria’s heart leapt into her throat and she felt Danse tense. They had not yet discussed how they would tell the others, or if Danse was even ready to do so. This was not going to end well, but she couldn’t think of a plausible explanation, and she knew that attempting to skirt the truth would be futile. The group was staring expectantly at Danse as the question hung in the air.

Victoria tried to change the subject: “Guys, I don’t think-” 

“And to have them hunting you down…” Piper interrupted. “You must’ve really pissed them off.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone who’s ex-Brotherhood,” Preston added casually, attempting to hide his obvious interest. Victoria realized that she hadn’t, either. The only soldier she knew of that had defected was Paladin Brandis, but they had convinced him long ago to return to the Prydwen to resume his service. Anyone who joined the Brotherhood seemed loyal for life.

“I didn’t think they did that.”

“Do they do that?”

“I thought the only way to leave the Brotherhood was to die for them-”

This situation was quickly getting out of hand. Amidst the chatter, Victoria glanced at Nick; he was the only one who had not yet spoken. She could see his glowing yellow eyes carefully studying Danse. He kept quiet, puffing on his cigarette, but she knew he was putting his detective skills to use. 

“Guys-”

“How far do you have to go to piss them off though? They’re basically insane, I don’t see how-“

They had grown louder, everyone speaking over top of everyone else. Victoria’s blood pressure was rising with their rising voices, but it seemed like they were speaking more to each other, and the conversation had drifted away from Danse specifically.

“I wonder how-”

“What do they-“

“I’m a synth.” Danse blurted suddenly. 

Silence fell immediately. Victoria cringed.

When she looked up, she saw her companions staring at Danse in blatant disbelief. Piper had a cigarette halfway to her mouth; Nick’s almost fell out of his. Preston was holding his unfinished bowl of soup with both hands, mouth slightly agape. Hancock, for once, seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence was heavy, awkward. Victoria wasn’t sure where to look, so she stared intently at the fire and secretly wished she could melt through the chair she was sitting on and into the ground.

Danse took a shaky breath. “I’m a synth,” he repeated. “And the Brotherhood wants me dead. In fact, they sent her,” he motioned to Victoria, “to kill me.”

The stunned silence continued. 

Finally, Piper broke it: “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Victoria said blankly, still looking at no one in particular. 

“Wait, so they sent you to kill your sponsor? Your partner??” Preston was incredulous. Victoria glanced at him.

“Yep. The second they found out, they wanted his head. Fuckers. Maxson sent me to find him, and told me if I killed him he’d have a nice big promotion for me. So, naturally, I told him to take his promotion and shove it up his tight little-” Danse coughed loudly and glared at Victoria. She stared back at him pointedly, and continued; “-ass. And this shit-stick is still loyal to them.”

“They were my entire life, Victoria.” 

“I don’t care! They tried to kill you! They sent me to kill you!”

“That’s not the point! The Brotherhood is the only thing I’ve ever known.” He looked down at the fire. “I had my entire life, everything I’ve ever known, all that I am, ripped from me. I lived my entire life hating synths- killing them, destroying them- just to find out that… that-”

He faltered. She felt like reaching out to him, but hesitated.

“-that I am one?” Danse finished. He stared at his hands. First his right, then his left, as if they were unreal; alien. Not his own.

Victoria put her hand on his forearm and squeezed lightly. 

Eventually, after another shaky breath, he continued: “Anyway, there was a bit of a show down with Maxson. He showed up after Victoria came to find me… Tried to get her to kill me. She pointed a gun at him, threatened to kill him instead, and amazingly, he let us go. Said I’m dead to the Brotherhood, and if I come anywhere near them, they’ll shoot to kill.”

No one knew what to say. 

The suffocating silence continued as they stared at the fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written, and the first piece of fiction I've written in probably 5 years. I honestly hadn't planned on continuing it, so thanks for all the kind comments!
> 
> Italics = memories/flashbacks

Danse and Victoria had excused themselves and returned to the house that had at one time belonged to Victoria’s neighbour- she refused to take up in her old house; she wouldn’t even set foot inside- and when they entered Danse stood motionless in the front room, his back to her.

“Danse?” She went to reach up to touch his broad shoulder. “How you doing, big guy?”

Without looking at her, he turned and headed straight down the hall. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

Standing in the middle of the room, she stared after him. The finality of his words prevented her from following, and she continued to gaze down the hall long after he had rather forcefully shut the makeshift door. Sighing, she slumped over to the couch and flopped down. She ran her hands down her face, and undid her ponytail, long brown hair knotted and dirty as it fell onto her thin shoulders. After a few moments there came a crash from the bedroom that sounded like a lamp smashing. She sat forward, deciding whether or not she should go check if everything was alright. 

Creeping down the hallway as quietly as she could, she peered around the corner, through a split in the wooden door, and into the dark room. She could faintly make out the dark silhouette of Danse, lying on his back on the bed. A tension she hadn’t realized had settled in her shoulders lifted a little upon seeing that he didn’t appear to be injured. She tiptoed back to the couch and sat back down, resting her scuffed shoes on the coffee table. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

There came a soft tap at the front door. She opened her eyes and looked through the gaping hole that had once been a window –knocking on the door really was pointless nowadays- and saw two yellow eyes peering in. 

Rising to her feet, she quietly said, “Hi Nick.” 

“May I come in?”

“Yeah.” 

The door creaked as Nick opened it. Before he could ask, she added: “He went to bed.”  
“I see. How are you?”

She gawked at him. “Who cares? I’m fine.”

“Good.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. “You’re going to need to be fine if you’re going to help him.”

She studied his withered face for a moment. The face of a gentle old synth, who owed nothing to anyone, and yet dedicated his entire life to helping everyone he could. To helping her.

“What do I do, Nick?” Her voice gave away more emotion than she had intended. She was tired. Homesick. As much as she pretended she didn’t care and let things roll off her back, it was all an act. A façade. A psychologist might call it a defense mechanism. The thought made her snigger.

Nick sat down beside her, his elbow grazing hers. He smelled of smoke and warm metal. “I’m not sure what to tell ya, kid.”

Victoria put her head on his shoulder and sighed. He shifted further into the couch.

“You’ll just have to be there for him as best you can. You’re good at that. You’ll know what to do. And, if I can, I’ll try to answer any questions he may have for me,” he was absentmindedly rolling a cigarette between the fingers of his left hand. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through. And _I_ woke up in a dumpster.”

Victoria snorted. 

They spoke softly for a while longer, her arm tucked under his and her head on his shoulder. When he took his leave, Victoria wished he hadn’t. His presence was comforting. Safe. Not like night time in the wasteland they all called home.

She slept fitfully on the couch, a thick blanket pulled up to her ears.

\-----------

Victoria jolted awake. Throwing the blankets off herself she leapt up, scrambling around for her gun while also trying to find the source of the noise. Awkwardly, she realized it was just someone at the door letting her know the communal breakfast was ready. Face flushed, she thanked them, pushed her hair out of her face, and stole carefully down the hallway to Danse’s room.

The door creaked. Danse had his back to it, blankets pulled up to his chest. Hesitantly, she reached out to shake his shoulder.

“Danse?” A gentle shake. “Danse? Breakfast is ready.”

“Go away,” he grumbled, voice groggy. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them further up his body.

“Morning to you too, sunshine. Get up.”

“No.”

She glared at his broad, muscled back. There was no way she’d be strong enough to pull him up, so when he didn’t move, she huffed and left. Stomach growling, she decided she’d just bring something back for him to eat.

Settlers were gathered around the cleared house foundation at the very end of the road that wound through Sanctuary Hills. That was where they had set up their few shops, the cooking pot, and plenty of chairs and tables for people to sit and enjoy their meals. The settlers congregated there in the mornings and evenings when they weren’t busy farming or keeping watch. People took turns cooking the meals. Victoria lamented food from the old world and was convinced she would never get used to any of it. Especially molerat meatloaf.

She served herself a bowl of whatever-it-was that filled the cooking pot – it was pale and lumpy but it didn’t smell completely inedible- and sat down at an empty patio table. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a few settlers staring at her face. People had a habit of doing that. She couldn’t blame them. Not really.

_“How’d you even get that scar anyway?” One of the Scribes sneered. They had bunked down for the night in an abandoned building, a small fire burning low on the upper floor. Paladin Danse was on watch, his back to them as they tried to rest for the night. The gnarled scar than ran straight from her hairline, over her left eye, and down her left cheek had always been a bit of a conversation starter for anyone bold enough to mention it. It certainly got her enough stares. And it definitely made it hard to look in a mirror._

_“Got jumped by a deathclaw straight out the vault.”_

_“Bullshit,” the other Knight, Lukas, spat. Victoria never liked Knight Lukas. He was brash, rude, and didn’t know when to shut his mouth. She didn’t like him, or his fancy haircut. In fact, she realized, there weren’t many people in the Brotherhood of Steel that she did like._

_“Whatever. It’s the truth. I don’t care if you believe it.” It really wasn’t the truth. She knew it. They knew it. But she’d die before she told them what had actually disfigured her._

_She’d never considered herself pretty before, and now? Well._

_“You expect us to believe you singlehandedly fought a deathclaw?”_

_“With my bare hands.”_

_Knight Lukas rolled his eyes and the Scribes both scoffed. Why was it more believable when Maxson fought a deathclaw by himself? Why was-_

“-right? Victoria?”

She snapped out of the memory at the sound of her name. Apparently Piper had been talking to her. “Huh?”

“I said, is Danse alright?” 

“Oh. Uh… Well, I mean. I don’t know,” she stammered lamely. “He just… needs some time. You know?”

Piper sat down across the table. Settlers continued to bustle around them, talking amongst themselves. The sun had only just risen above the horizon; the sky was clear and the air cool. Victoria gazed at her untouched bowl of lumpy mush, appetite gone with the breeze that swept through Sanctuary. Her thoughts drifted again. Growing up in that house up the road hadn’t been as easy as everyone assumed. Sure, there were four solid walls and a roof, no mutants or raiders or fighting for your life every day, but it wasn’t all _cupcakes and rainbows_ either, as it were. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, blue?”

“Nothing. Do you want this?” She motioned to the food. Piper shook her head. So Victoria gathered up the bowl, mumbled a quick ‘be back in a bit’, and headed over to the settlement’s crops. The mutfruits were perfectly ripe. She picked one and headed back down the road to try and convince Danse to at least get out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I'm totally happy with this chapter, comments are always welcome


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a struggle.
> 
> -Warning for domestic violence type situation in this chapter. Skip if needed.

Victoria had gone back to the house to find Danse sitting on the edge of the bed. Setting the bowl of mush down on the bedside table, she held the mutfruit out to him. He made no move to take it. After a moment, she sighed and set it down on the table too. Victoria had never been good at comforting people. She found herself too awkward, and never knew what to say. Advice, she could do. Comfort? It always felt superficial. 

She wished she had Nick’s kindness, or Hancock’s charm. 

She was halfway to the door when he finally spoke.

“You should have just killed me like Maxson ordered.”

Victoria turned around. His cheeks were gaunt, his face pale. The room was silent, save for a loose wall board thumping lightly in the breeze. She took a step towards him.

“Don’t you ever say that,” she roughly grabbed him under the chin. The contact made him jerk back slightly. “Don’t you ever fucking say that. Ever.”

His dark brown eyes were glazed over and they widened in momentary surprise. Physical contact was rare between them; the only time they touched was to push each other out of the way of bullets or grenades. The air grew tense. Eyes locked with his, she slowly let go of his chin, the thick stubble rough as it brushed her fingers. 

“You never follow orders,” he looked down as he spoke, voice low and calm. Then, something changed. Back going rigid, he sneered. “You’re a fucking insubordinate nuisance, you know that?”  
She flinched at the curse. Paladin Danse never cursed. Not like that.

“You’re the worst soldier I’ve ever met. You’re weak. Quite pathetically weak to be honest. You show absolutely no respect to your superiors, you’re damn near mutinous, and you think you’re funny when in fact you are exceedingly annoying.”

Trying to ignore the stinging insults, she plastered on a fake grin. “I’m pretty sure we’ve gone over all this already. I’m well aware you think I’m a huge piece of shit and I don’t disagree. Not everyone can be as perfect as you.”

He stood up suddenly, towering over her. 

Then he started yelling.

_“Is this a game to you, Knight?” Paladin Danse roared._

_Victoria instantly felt very small. At 5’9 she wasn’t exactly short, but Paladin Danse’s towering 6’5- outside his armor- made her feel small in a way no one ever had. When she heard his booming voice it made her feel even smaller. Insignificant. The black jumpsuit she wore suddenly felt ridiculous. The scabbard straps crisscrossing her chest felt too tight, her shoulder pads constricting, and her belt felt like it was too snug. The pistol on her hip was heavy all of a sudden. She truly felt like a kid in a Halloween costume, standing there in front of an angry parent._

_Danse’s eyes burned like fire. One of the veins in his neck stood out._

_“Knight Winter! Answer me!” he bellowed._

_“No.” She said weakly._

_He glared. “No what?”_

_“No it’s not a game,” her voice was barely above a whisper._

_“You run around with those damn swords like you’re some kind of hero from those damn comic books you incessantly read-”_

_“Katanas.”_

_He paused, fury bubbling beneath the surface. “…what did you just say?”_

_Victoria stared at his chest plate as though it was suddenly extremely interesting. “They’re called katanas.”_

_“I don’t care what they’re called!” The Paladin ripped the sword from her hand and threw it across the courtyard. The clatter of metal hitting concrete rang out and echoed. She flinched away from him. “They’re a damn joke and you’re going to get yourself killed. Take off the ridiculous suit, get rid of the swords, and grow the hell up!”_

The words echoed in her memory like they had been spoken mere moments before. She assumed they were similar to the words he was shouting now, although she wasn’t really listening. Tuning him out, she turned around and started to walk down the hall. He followed. The shouting could be heard from outside, but none of the settlers paid it any mind. 

“You’re so selfish,” she spat when she reached the front room. “You think no one else here is going through shit? Nobody has problems but you! Poor little Danse, wallowing in a pit of self-hatred because no one could possibly understa-”

The back of his hand collided with her right cheek with more strength than was probably necessary. The force of the blow whipped her head around, throwing her off balance, and she fell sideways, the left side of her jaw connecting with the corner of the splintered wooden coffee table. The momentum caused her to roll when she hit the ground, and she sat up quickly in shock, her back to him. Warm blood oozed down her neck. She sat, frozen. 

After a moment, Danse reached forward, “Vic, I’m sorry, I di-”

She smacked his hand away from her shoulder. “Get the fuck away from me.”

Her entire body shook. Thoughts spinning, she stood and all but ran out the door. 

The street was empty. The sun was high in the sky, and a deformed bird flew silently overhead. Gunshots echoed in the far distance. Jaw aching and shirt slowly staining with blood, she strode down the street out of Sanctuary toward the bridge to the Red Rocket. 

“Hey doll, where you going?” Hancock’s gravelly voice called from behind her. His footsteps were close behind. The sun was blinding, searing into her eyes and making the pounding headache that was creeping up the back of her head worse. She quickened her pace. The last thing she wanted was to talk to someone. 

“Away,” she snapped. The blood on her left hand was getting tacky. If she tried to walk any faster she’d be running.

Hancock jogged momentarily to catch up to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She whipped around and tried to slap it away, but instead he grabbed her by the upper arms, face full of concern.  
His dark eyes considered her bleeding jaw and her blood soaked shirt. He could feel her shaking lightly in his grip. 

“Did he hit you?”

“No,” she answered a bit too quickly.

Hancock raised his brow ridges. Victoria looked at the ground, cheeks flushing lightly. Taking her by the chin, he tilted her head to the side. 

Hancock let the lie slide. “That’s a nasty cut. Where were you going anyways?”

“I told you. Away.”

“Well at least let me patch you up. Don’t want you bleeding out alone in this shithole wasteland.”

He slid his hand into hers and led her back up the road.

\---

After she had run out the front door, Danse slowly sat down on the faded couch. His hands shook. His mind was spinning. He crossed his arms on his knees, put his head down, and started to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danse won't be like this forever I promise


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been swamped with school and work.
> 
> Short chapter because I just wanted to get something up.

“The scar will compliment my other one nicely. It’ll make the deathclaw story more believable.”

Back at his shack, Hancock was doing his best to patch up the gash on Victoria’s jaw. A dangerous past living on the street had at least allowed Hancock some medical knowledge, albeit not as polished as what a doctor could provide. The skills certainly were not as effective as chems would have been either, but there was no real need to waste the stimpaks.

Smirking, he shook his head. “What about the super mutant behemoth story?”

“That one too. And the mirelurk queen story. And those thirty raiders in power armour-” a hiss as he poured more alcohol on the wound. “-I mean, the story possibilities are endless. Anyways, at least they’re both on the same side of my face, so, you know, I’m only completely hideous from one direction, and just partly hideous from the other.”

Hancock stared at her in disbelief. Self-deprecation from a ghoul he could understand, but from a girl out of time, mostly untainted by the violence and disease of the post-war world? Straight teeth and soft skin were non-existent, and to him, even with the scar, she looked like she had stepped right out of an old world fairy-tale. 

“You _do_ realize you’re talkin’ to a ghoul right now, right?”

“Okay but like… you really don’t look that bad.” Her hands were still gripping the seat of the chair she sat on, even though he had finished with the wound. “And besides, you’ve got the personality to make up for it. I don’t.”

He scoffed, but left it at that. What felt like ages ago had seen them traveling together across the Commonwealth; fighting raiders and mutants, helping settlements, and scavenging for the endless amounts of junk Victoria liked to collect-

_“Why the hell are you picking up those cans??”  
“Aluminum, buddy. Steel. Need that shit for mods.”_-

During that time Hancock had learned it was pointless to argue with her. She could be infuriating. She was stubborn, she was a liar, but she always did the right thing. He was alright with that. The minute she had stumbled into Goodneighbor, overladen with gear and covered in dirt and dried blood, he knew they would be good friends. She hadn’t proved him wrong.

Silence lingered between them. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a comfortable, thoughtful one. Quiet moments like these were rare in the Commonwealth, even in a protected settlement. Victoria’s hand came up to touch the bandage on her face. She looked lost in thought.

“So what are you going to do about Tin Man?” Hancock broke the silence. He knew she didn’t particularly like that nickname, but he couldn’t bring himself to use anything else. Hancock didn’t like Danse, plain and simple. He never quite understood why she did, and often wondered if she just liked that Danse followed her around like a lost puppy. That was probably an unfair thought. She did have an odd assortment of friends, himself included.

She shot him a momentary disapproving look, and then sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well whatever you do, leaving won’t solve anything. Unless you want to run from him forever, because he’ll no doubt try to find you. You’d think you would’ve learned that by now.”

It was true: Paladin Danse was hard to run from. She had tried on more than one occasion. After he had yelled at her over the swords; after an incident with a mirelurk queen; after a specific screw-up that had her afraid he might kill her for good; and after one particular snide comment about a particular synth detective. It was almost becoming a tradition between them. She’d screw up, he’d get mad, she’d run, he’d find her. Every single time, he would come looking. Danse was the most loyal person she’d ever met, and it got on her nerves. 

Running was easier. Burying the hurt was easier. Avoidance, denial, hiding… it kept her safe. 

But, in that moment, she realized that wasn’t exactly true. The one thing truly keeping her safe was the thing she kept running from. 

Danse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse reaches a conclusion: There is something he has to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what we're all thinking: "Finally."

Danse spent the better part of the next evening searching for Victoria. It had been a full day since their fight, and he had spent the past twenty-four or so hours thinking. Reflecting. It had been a long and arduous process. Self-reflection and introspection had never been one of his strong suits, and as a soldier, very often it had not been a necessary skill. But he had eventually reached a conclusion, and realized there was something he needed to do.

He had hurt people before. Many times. But never in this way. Never in a way that felt so wrong. 

He had depended on people before. Many times. But also never in this way. Never in a way that left him aching, vulnerable.

He trudged down the road through Sanctuary, hoping to find out where she had gone. The sun was starting to set, and it gave everything a warm orange glow. None of Victoria’s friends were around that he could see, and most of the settlers were still tending their crops or fulfilling the other duties to which they had been assigned. He tried to think who he could ask for help. That Diamond City reporter seemed to be close with Victoria. She was probably the most normal and least dangerous of Victoria’s friends, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. Garvey seemed normal as well, but Danse always got the feeling the Minuteman didn’t like him very much. He was nowhere in sight anyway. That kid mercenary hadn’t been around when they got to Sanctuary, and no way was he going to search out the ghoul. 

Sanctuary had never been his favorite place to be. The defences were meagre and the area was too large to fence in with the available supplies. Civilians were weak, unkempt, and he wouldn’t trust most of them to defend a home, let alone his life. Most of them were thieves and murderers. One time he had caught one of them eyeing his power armor and that had been the final straw.

He shielded his eyes with one hand. The air felt dry. It left his mouth parched.

There was a single person sitting alone on the bench near the cooking pot, smoking a cigarette. Even a few weeks ago Danse would not have considered him a person. He’d always been extra suspicious of the detective; perhaps unreasonably so. Valentine had been nothing but a machine to him, an abomination that had somehow been allowed to live. A freak. A sideshow nothing that deserved to be terminated. Part of him still kind of felt that way. Perhaps he was indeed the Wasteland’s biggest hypocrite. 

He approached tentatively, not entirely sure what to say to the synth. Valentine had every right to hate him, and he knew it. They both knew that neither liked the other, and they only tolerated each other on the few occasions they’d had to because Victoria meant more to both of them than a simple grudge. 

“Nice to see you out of that shack.” 

Danse expected Valentine’s cordial tone to make his skin crawl as it usually did, but something was different this time. There was no subtle menace in his voice. The detective didn’t even sound wary. Danse sat down without a word in the chair Victoria had sat in a few nights ago, and clasped his hands between his knees, leaning forward slightly. Valentine’s eerie glowing eyes studied him briefly before resting on his face.

“I suppose you’re looking for Victoria,” he said conversationally. Smoke swirled lazily around them.

“Yeah,” Danse croaked.

“Well you’ll be pleased to hear she didn’t leave,” Valentine took a puff of his cigarette. Danse still couldn’t understand how a robot was able to smoke. “I don’t know where she went but she was here not that long ago. She can’t have gone far.”

Danse got up to leave, and as he turned, Valentine spoke again, voice low and dangerous. “You’d better watch yourself.”

Danse turned back to face him, anger bubbling and starting to rise up. Before he could say anything, Valentine continued:

“She wants to help you. I know it’s not the tough guy thing to do. But sometimes you just have to suck it up and let people help.” He put out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him, and then reached up to his breast pocket for another, wiry metal hand glinting in the fading light. “I can’t say that I know what you’re dealing with. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything’ll be fine and dandy. I know it’s not easy. But you can’t go losing what friends you have just because you don’t want to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Danse continued to glare into that misshapen face. Valentine stared back, unflinching. 

Instead of answering, and giving away the emotion that threatened to reveal itself, he turned and left without a word. Behind his back, Valentine smirked to himself as he lit another cigarette.

\-----

When he finally found her, she was sitting by the edge of the stream behind her old house, throwing rocks into the water. 

Daylight was fading and cast a grey tint on their surroundings. The soft gentle flow of the water was soothing and it was broken only by the random _plop_ of the stones breaking the surface. The air was oddly still. It was as if time had momentarily stopped. There was no breeze to rustle the burnt out trees that littered the expanse of the wasteland, no birds singing or crickets chirping or dogs barking in the distance. Just the dead, eerie stillness.

Danse made certain his footsteps crunched audibly in the dirt to alert her to his presence; he had been told he was astonishingly quiet without his power armour on, and didn’t feel like startling her and having a gun shoved in his face. For such a large man, he moved with an uncanny grace.

Once he was sure she had seen him, he sat down on the rocky dirt a few feet from her and crossed his legs. He sat silent for a while, unacknowledged and unsure how to proceed.

“I… saw you uh, holding hands with that ghoul-”

“His name is _Hancock_ ,” she spat vehemently. The anguished look on his face when she glanced at him made her feel a momentary pang of guilt. It was almost like she had stepped on an already injured puppy. She pushed the feeling away and turned her attention back to the pebbles she had been tossing into the stream.

“Sorry, I- fuck,” Danse whispered, running his hands down his face. “I didn’t- It’s just…”

He sighed. Powerful hands clenched and unclenched. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “Victoria, I’m really, really sorry. I-”

“Danse-”

“Please let me speak? Without interrupting?”

She eyed him warily before motioning for him to continue. After a few shaky breaths, he steeled himself and began.

“This really isn’t easy for me, but… everything you said, back at the bunker. I realized that you were right. About the choices I make being my own, and the way I feel and react being, well… me. It is who I am. And maybe it is just institute programming, but I guess I can’t change that. A lot of my memories probably aren’t my own, but the ones I have with the Brotherhood, and with you, are. That has to count for something.”

He paused, scratching an eyebrow. His hand came to rest on the back of his neck. Thick eyebrows furrowed with the struggle he faced in being so honest and open with someone. It had never come easy to him.

“You were right about all of that… and about the fact that I have people who care about me.” 

_But you can’t go losing what friends you have just because you don’t want to stop feeling sorry for yourself_. Valentine’s words echoed in Danse’s memory. Valentine hadn’t said _can’t_ stop feeling sorry for yourself. He had said _don’t want to_. The words resonated with him; they were true, and it had been like a smack in the face. How was that damn synth so perceptive? 

“I guess I was being selfish. I just didn’t see it until now. I really wanted to give up. And I still kind of do.”

Victoria was watching his face now, her body turned toward him. The emotions that flickered across this face as he spoke- the confusion, the resentment, the sadness, the pain- proved more than he could ever realize how human he truly was. No programming, no matter how advanced, could replicate that. 

“I don’t think I deserve to be here. I certainly don’t deserve you… especially after what I did. But I realized that I need you. More than ever. I…”

Their eyes locked. 

“I feel human around you.”

Victoria didn’t know what to say. Instead, she got onto her knees and crawled closer to him, taking one of Danse’s hands in her own. She knelt in front of him, still dwarfed by his size. He grasped her small hand tightly, like it was the only thing holding him to earth. 

“I need you.” Tears started to form at the corners of his eyes and he quickly tried to wipe them away. One spilled over and ran down his cheek.

Gently, she brushed it away. Her hand lingered near his jaw, his rough stubble thick and his skin warm. Another tear ran down his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, pulling him close. His forehead came to rest against her small chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hand tangling in his thick hair and holding his head to her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and held tight. “It’s okay. Shh. It’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really what I had planned for this chapter and it was a total cringe fest to write so sorry in advance

Victoria had held Danse for a while as he broke down, softly stroking his hair and neck and trying her best to comfort him. After a while he quieted, but made no move to let go, still holding her tight with his forehead against her collarbone. His thick hair was soft and it smelled nice, almost floral somehow. The front of her shirt was damp, and her arms prickled with goosebumps at the quickly chilling air. Then he had abruptly moved back, apologizing for his “outburst”, looking as awkward and endearing as ever. 

Now they sat together by the edge of the stream, Victoria’s pip-boy light dimly glowing beside them. Darkness had fallen. Had they been at the water near the south of Sanctuary, they likely would have been more cautious. However, attacks never seemed to come from the north; no one had never seen as much as a bloatfly come from that direction, let alone any raiders or Gunners.

Victoria sat between Danse’s legs, her back to his firm chest. Strong arms were secure and warm around her, facial hair rough against her neck as he rested his chin on her shoulder. The air remained still and dry. It hadn’t rained in days and the next rainfall was likely still far off. They were both lost in thought and the silence between them was comfortable. They stayed like that for a long time, until Victoria broke the quiet.

“My brother and I used to come out here all the time,” she slouched, shoe scuffing the dirt.

Danse paused. “You have a brother?”

“I… yeah. Younger brother.” Five years younger, to be exact. That much of an age difference had seen her mostly responsible for him, and she had resented it for most of her teenage years. Until she awoke from her deep freeze, that was.

“You never mentioned that. Was he in the vault with you?”

Reflexively, she glanced in the direction of Vault 111. “Yeah. But… he wasn’t there when I woke up. That’s actually… how I met Nick. He’s been helping me look for him.”

“For all this time?” Danse sounded incredulous. When she didn’t respond, he added: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want anyone to know. It sounds kind of stupid in retrospect. I don’t really like telling people personal things.”

He was quiet for a moment, soaking in her words. “Well, thank you for trusting me.”

She made a noncommittal noise and rested her small hands on his big ones. She was glad he didn’t press the matter further. Being a fairly private person himself, she figured he understood.  
After a while, it was his turn to break the silence:

“I never congratulated you on your promotion.”

“Ugh. Don’t. Please.” She grimaced. The thought of her ‘promotion’ made her entire being cringe. 

“Why not? It’s a big deal in the Brotherhood. Not many people make it to the rank of Paladin.”

Victoria sighed. “Because I didn’t earn it, Danse. Not the way you did. Maxson was only using the promotion as a bribe and I’ll be damned if I’m going to parade the title around when I only got it for ‘killing’ one of their best soldiers.” Absentmindedly, she traced the outline of his fingers, occasionally rubbing small circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. “…Besides, _‘Paladin Winter’_? It sounds awful.”

“I think it suits you.”

“Pfft,” she snorted. His breath was warm beside her cheek and she thought he might be smiling. After a moment, she added: “I’m not going back there, you know.”

Danse straightened, arms loosening slightly around her as he tried to look at her face. “And why not?”

“You’re joking, right? After what they did?”

“You can’t just turn your back on the Brotherhood, Victoria.” There it was: stern military Danse. Most of the tenderness he had been showing her had vanished almost in an instant.

“Just watch me. Besides, I never liked them. I hate almost everything about them actually. I thought you knew that.”

Danse was silent. Victoria’s cheeks grew hot; she thought maybe she had crossed a line again. She bit her lip, waiting for a reprimand, but none came. Danse said nothing. Instead, he settled back against her.

There was something at the tip of her tongue, waiting to burst out. She tried to hold it back, but it came out in a rushed mumble:

“I only stayed because you were there.”

It was a confession she never thought she would say aloud. Never could she have dreamt of telling her CO, her _sponsor_ , Paladin Danse, that the only reason she didn’t hightail it out of the Brotherhood of Steel the moment the Prydwen flew in and she realized they stood against everything she believed in was because he meant something to her in a world where nothing else did. Words to describe the feeling eluded her, but she guessed one could say that she cared. A lot. There weren’t many people, alive or dead, that she could say that about. 

When he stayed silent she turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and she suspected he was probably blushing, but the light was too dim to tell.

Her breath caught. She glanced from his mouth to his dark eyes. His lips were parted slightly, and before she knew it he was leaning forward, and she was leaning forward to meet him, heart thudding loudly in her chest. Their mouths met. His lips were rough but warm, gentle and welcoming. A hand came up to gently cup her cheek. The angle was awkward; both of their necks were twisted and straining, and her arms were sandwiched against his chest. The average person might say it wasn’t a perfect kiss, but to Victoria, it couldn’t have been better.

The kiss only lasted for what felt like a moment before he was pulling away, a surprised and embarrassed look on his face.

“I should, uh- I should go.”

She stopped him before he could get up, placing a small, quick kiss to the underside of his chin, and then wrapping her arms around his neck in the first real hug they had ever shared. Her cheeks burned and her heart was still pounding as she grinned into his shoulder, feeling like a giddy teenager. He stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed, breathing in the scent of her hair and letting his hands rest on her slender waist.

“Or I… guess I could stay.”

She laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks, and Danse smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a joke of a kissing scene though I'M SORRY


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visit catches Sanctuary unprepared.

Once Victoria broke their embrace, they had returned to his shack where they stayed up most of the night, huddled on his bed, talking. She hoped reminding him of some of their shared memories of their missions might help put him more at ease. At some point she had fallen asleep against him, and when she woke up, his arm was around her and he was dozing lightly, head back against the wall. The early morning rays of sun were just starting to shine through the empty space in the wall that served as a window when she accidentally woke him up. She couldn’t help but grin at his sleepy and slightly confused big brown eyes when he looked down at her.

They huddled back together again on his mattress, trying to ward off the cool morning air. It was warm under the blankets that covered them, and she lazily ran her hand up and down his muscled forearm.

“Remember that time you yelled at me over that mirelurk queen at the Castle?”

He grunted. “That time you jumped on its back? And almost got yourself killed?”

“God. You shouted for like an hour. I actually literally thought your head was going to explode. I saw smoke and everything.”

“You’re so immature.”

“No you are.”

Danse sighed. She couldn’t see him, but she was willing to bet he rolled his eyes. She smiled to herself.

“Anyways, shit, could you even talk after that? How hoarse was your voice?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know because you ran off like a scared little child.” When she didn’t rise to the insult, he continued, more softly: “I spent days looking for you.”

“Whatever. I was slicing up raiders and having fun without you.”

They were silent for a while. Victoria enjoyed playfully goading him, and though she would never admit it, part of her enjoyed it when he scolded her, too. She didn’t enjoy the yelling, but the tone he got in his voice when he reprimanded her for stopping to pick up useless scrap or climbing on things that _‘shouldn’t be climbed on’_ made her smile. It had become a tradition to drive him as crazy as possible on their missions, but he never stayed mad for long.

“Or… or, what about that time that vertibird almost crashed on my head? Fuck.”

“I wish you wouldn’t curse like that.”

“That was fucking crazy. I thought it was a fucking grenade or something when it exploded. Man that was wild. I kind of wished it had just landed on me so I didn’t have to listen to you.”

Danse sighed again, quieter, but more exasperated. She laughed and snuggled into his side, laying her arm across his stomach. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his shirt. They were content.

There was a soft knock at the door. “General?”

She shot up. It was Preston. He was awkwardly avoiding eye contact and she thought she could see a blush on his cheeks, as if he had walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to see.

“Yeah? What is it Preston?”

He looked hesitant. “A vertibird just landed across the way.”

Victoria’s eyes widened. She could have sworn her heart missed a beat. 

“Shit!” Thoughts were racing through her head. _They’re here for Danse_ being the main worry. “Shit, shit, shit,” she panicked, throwing the blankets off and clambering over Danse, almost landing on the floor.

“Vic-”

“Just, stay here.” Brushing her hair out of her eyes and grabbing her gun, she turned back to his bewildered face. “And hide. Please. Hide... Under the bed or something. Stay here until I get back.” 

Preston had already left, and Victoria ran out the door and out of the house, sprinting down the main road towards the bridge. She knew the Brotherhood goons would avoid walking through the river in their power armor and would be forced to cross the bridge; part of her hoped their combined weight would collapse it so she wouldn’t have to deal with them, but she doubted she would be so lucky. Preston was jogging towards the bridge as well, warning any settlers that he passed about the approaching Brotherhood soldiers. Most of the settlers were terrified of the Brotherhood. They had sent scouts to try and muscle the farmers out of their crops on more than one occasion, and many –however dubious- stories were told over nighttime meals about the terrifying metal men and their flying ships ravaging their way across the Commonwealth. The ghouls were especially afraid. Most of them ran back to their houses or towards the common area when they heard the news. 

They had a right to be scared; it would have been far more surprising if they weren’t. It made Victoria embarrassed to be a part of the Brotherhood. 

As she approached, she could see three Knights in power armor and two scribes walking towards the far end of the bridge. Preston was briefing the five or six settlers who had stayed at the defences: _We’re going to try and talk this out, but be prepared to shoot if needed_. They all had their guns trained on the soldiers. Victoria admired their bravery. The nearby turrets whirred, ready to fire.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Lightheaded, she leaned on the guard tower beside her and tried to catch her breath. Still unsure of what she was going to say, she had a fleeting hope that maybe the soldiers were just here for farm goods or supplies. She would happily give those things away now if it meant they would leave.

There was no way they would be able to fight them off without suffering too many casualties. Depending on who had been sent- she _really_ hoped it wasn’t Rhys- she would probably be able to keep a lie going long enough to convince them to leave. But if the soldiers tried to strong arm their way past their defences and into Sanctuary, there wasn’t a lot of hope for Danse being able to hide unless he had already run for the hills. Part of her doubted that he realized how much danger he was in. Or how much danger they were all in. The settler’s lives were in Victoria’s hands, even more so than usual. As much as she wished she had Danse, Hancock, and Valentine at her back, she was glad they had the common sense to hide as well.

The settlers shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but they held their ground.

The leading Knight removed his helmet and stopped a few feet from them. Victoria’s heart leapt into her throat.

Knight Lukas. Shit.

The sun glinted off their armor, blinding. Shielding her eyes, she put a fake friendly look on her face and spoke in as welcoming a tone as she could manage: “Knight Lukas. What can I do for you?” 

“We’ve received reports that you have been seen traveling with a man in power armor.”

No beating around the bush with Knight Lukas. At least he was straightforward. Victoria briefly wondered if the Brotherhood maybe had an informant somewhere in or near Sanctuary. It wouldn’t have been the first time it turned out someone had been following her. It had taken her weeks to realize the guys in sunglasses she kept seeing everywhere were in fact the same person. It had become less creepy after they finally met and she got to know Deacon, but she still found herself occasionally looking over her shoulder and expecting to see him there. 

She hoped the panic hadn’t flickered in her eyes.

“I have quite a few suits of it, so that’s probably what’s been seen,” she lowered her arm and rested her hand on her hip. “You do know that there are lots of people in the Commonwealth who own power armor, right?”

“So you mean to tell me it isn’t that abomination? The former Paladin Danse?”

Her jaw clenched. “Well that would be weird, seeing as he’s dead… Unless he’s floating around as a ghost, I don’t know how he could be here.” 

“But you see, the thing is… I don’t think he _is_ dead.” Lukas smirked. Victoria’s hand twitched. The self-righteous look on his face made her want to strangle him. 

“I killed him myself.”

“Did you, though?” He stepped closer, a swagger in his stride. “Nobody but you and Maxson were there, and no one has seen a body. You’ve always been soft, Winter. It wouldn’t surprise me if you let him go.”

Victoria’s eyes flickered momentarily to the other two Knights standing tall behind Lukas. Their weapons weren’t drawn, but both of them had their hands firmly on the grips. Victoria’s palms were beginning to sweat. She cursed herself for not realizing this would eventually happen. They should have prepared the settlers; they could have taken them in a fight if proper defences and strategies had been put in place, or even shot down the vertibird before it landed. But instead, here they were. Outmanned and unprepared. Seven weakly armed and unarmored settlers against five battle-trained Brotherhood soldiers.

She decided she would try another tactic. Clearly, convincing Knight Lukas that Danse was dead wasn’t going to work. She had never pulled rank on anyone before, but figured it was her best shot.

“Who sent you here?”

Lukas didn’t respond. The Knights shifted behind him and the Scribes glanced at each other. 

After a moment, he growled: “Let us pass. If Danse truly isn’t here, then you have nothing to hide.”

“Who sent you?” she repeated.

“Move aside, Winter.” Lukas spat. 

“I will not authorize you access to this settlement.” She was relieved that her voice stayed steady. His glare felt like it was piercing right through her head. 

Any hope Victoria had of avoiding violence was quickly dwindling. She had dealt with Lukas many times before; he had loved taunting her and making her life as horrible as possible when they had been on scouting or recovery missions together. He didn’t frighten her, but she knew what he was capable of. Lukas was possibly the most awful person she had ever met. Even Paladin Danse had once accidentally admitted to disliking him, and Danse didn’t often speak ill of Brotherhood affiliates. Even after the whole fiasco with Maxson.

“Now. Or you won’t like what comes next.”

“Are you threatening a superior officer, Knight?” Something flickered in Lukas’ eyes. Smugly, Victoria realized it was probably jealousy. “I doubt Elder Maxson would be pleased to learn you threatened one of his Paladins.”

Knight Lukas’ nostrils flared and she could have sworn she saw his eye twitch. His jaw was set, and he looked angrier than she had ever seen him. She stepped closer to him and continued: “Why don’t we hop onto that vertibird and go see him, hmm? You can tell him all about how you’re out here on an un-authorized mission, wasting Brotherhood time and supplies, terrorizing civilians, and disrespecting your superiors.”

The silence was deafening. Lukas continued to glare. 

“Well? Shall we go then?” She made a move to walk down the bridge when Lukas grabbed her arm, thrusting his face into hers. His steel eyes bore into her and she could smell his sour breath.

“Mark my words, Winter: We _will_ find him. And I will take great pleasure in killing you both.”

Victoria stared back, unblinking, into his cold eyes. There were so many rude retorts on her tongue but she held them back. 

Instead, she smirked. “It’s _Paladin_ Winter, to you.”

Lukas shoved her away and turned to leave. He motioned aggressively to the rest of his crew. The two Knights turned to leave as well, power armor creaking. One of the scribes lingered a moment, a guilty look on her face. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she too turned around and jogged to catch up with her fellow soldiers. The group tromped down the bridge, away from Sanctuary, and Victoria stood watching them until they got into the vertibird and left.

She turned to Preston, whose face was lit up with amazement, his huge toothy grin making her smile back weakly. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of a shaky hand and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her legs felt like they were going to give out. Preston caught her, arm snaking behind her back to keep her steady. 

He addressed the settlers ( _“At ease!”_ ) before turning back to her and laughing loudly. 

“Ha ha! That was amazing, General! I’ve never seen anyone stand up to those guys like that before!”

“I’m shitting my pants, Preston.” At that, he laughed again. She ran a hand through her messy hair. “Fuck. That could’ve gone so sideways.”

“Well you did good. That was really impressive.” Preston was probably the most genuine person Victoria had ever met. She really admired him. She studied his kind face for a moment as he supported her while they walked back into Sanctuary. 

“I’m glad you were there. I probably would have been more inclined to stab Lukas in his stupid face if you hadn’t.”

He chuckled. “I wonder if he uses motor oil to get his hair to stick up like that. You know him?”

“Yeah, he was in mine and Danse’s squad. Total dick.”

“I figured that much out,” Preston smiled. They had reached the house Danse was staying in and Preston left her there, saying he would go ring the bell and let the settlers know it was safe. She thanked him and made her way inside. She still felt lightheaded and used the wall as a support.

“Danse?” She called as she walked down the hallway. “They’re gone. You’re never gonna guess who-”

She stopped. The bedroom was empty. Victoria stood in the doorway, looking around. The door had been left wide open and the blanket they had been using was strewn across the floor. The bedside table was out of place. She stood there dumbly for a few moments before turning back down the hall.

“Danse?” She called again. Checking the bathroom, side room, and front room and kitchen area, she found no sign of him. The coffee table in the front room was knocked over and a broken lamp lay on the floor. Panic started to rise and she tried to shove it down. Walking quickly into the backyard, she started to call for him louder. When there was no response, she jumped the fence and ran towards the stream, looking around wildly and shouting his name. She waited there a few moments, heart dropping when there was again no sign of him.

Turning, she sprinted back towards the houses, tearing through the yards and glancing frantically through windows. A few settlers saw her when she burst through one of the bushes, and she yelled: “ _Have you seen Danse??_ ” When they shook their heads, alarmed, she growled in frustration and ran towards the common area. She asked settler after settler if they had seen him, and the answer was ‘no’ every time. All the possible things that could have happened to him were flashing through her mind and she swore at herself again for not being better prepared for this situation. She tried to reassure herself with the feeble hope that maybe he had just run to hide, but it seemed unlikely; with the state of the house and the fact that he hadn’t answered her screams, it was hard to not jump to the worst conclusion.

“Preston!” she screamed as she ran towards the benches where he was sitting with Nick and couple settlers. Preston started, eyes wide, as she sprinted up to them. “It was a distraction! It was a fucking distraction!” 

“Whoa, whoa, easy. What’s happening?” Preston jumped up, a worried look on his face as he reached out to her. She smacked his hand away. Nick stood.

“They took him! I told him to stay put and he’s not there! The house is a mess it looks like there was a struggle and he’s gone!” she rambled, voice shrill. Tears were starting to wet her eyes. Panic was consuming her.

“What?” Nick looked startled and Preston had taken a step back. Everyone was staring at her. She didn’t care how crazy she looked or sounded; she had never been this terrified in her entire life.

“Danse is gone!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So don’t go doing anything stupid, okay?”
> 
> “I won’t,” she lied.

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I mean he’s fucking gone!”

Nick and Preston both looked stunned. Once they had successfully gotten her to calm down and explain what happened, Preston had run off to group together some settlers to help search for Danse. Nick tried to get Victoria to sit down, but she was pacing frantically around the cooking area, grabbing at her hair.

“They must have informants. How else could they have known which house he was in? Are we sure no one saw anything? How could no one have seen anything?” Her voice was rising again with each question. She was practically vibrating with worry. 

Nick grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Slow down kid, we’re jumping to conclusions here. What exactly did you say to him?”

“I told him to stay there until I got back! He’s not the kind of person to just wander off, Nick!” She paused, whirling around out of his grip to look down the road. “Maybe he went to the Red Rocket!”

Nick scoffed. “Yeah. He crossed the river, right past you guys, without anyone noticing.” 

Victoria stared at him. Nick had a lot of nerve giving her flack for being sarcastic. Normally, she appreciated a good sarcastic comment. Victoria was sure that was one of the many reasons she liked Nick so much; the banter they exchanged never failed to make her chuckle. But, given their current situation, it was wearing her already thin patience down to the bone. She was about to call him out when Preston returned.

“We’ve got settlers searching the houses and the surrounding area.” He was breathing heavily and removed his hat to wipe his forehead with his sleeve.

“That’s good,” Nick nodded. “Victoria, we should go back to the house. I want to take a look around… see if we can find anything useful.”

Nick and Victoria went back to the house and Preston went to help the settlers search. Nick had Victoria re-tell everything she could remember: Where Danse had been, how he looked, anything he said before she left. It was not much to go on. Nick studied the rooms, the knocked over table and broken lamp, and searched the walls and floor for any kind of clue. There were no clothing fibers, blood, shoe marks, or footprints to be found. Upon a second inspection, Victoria noticed that the only real sign of any struggle was the table and broken lamp. The rest of the house was exactly how she had left it. 

Nick went to examine the back yard. Victoria stood in the front room, going over every detail in her head. She had been in such a hurry to get out and confront the Brotherhood that she hadn’t taken the time to set up a real plan with Danse. They weren’t soldiers anymore; she never thought they would need code words or fall back points ever again. 

“There are two sets of footprints out there, but I’m assuming one of them is yours.” Nick was standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard him come back. “So it looks like he left of his own accord, unless one person managed to carry him off on by themselves.”

“One person? Like one person in power armor?” However unlikely, it was still a possibility. Nothing seemed too farfetched to her.

Nick was beginning to sound impatient. “There was only one set of tracks leading away, and I don’t think the prints were big enough for-”

“Maybe someone here snuck in while we were distracted and forced him away at gunpoint.” Victoria wasn’t normally one to interrupt while someone was speaking, but she was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice Nick’s growing irritation.

“Victoria, everyone here is accounted for, and no one saw anything unusual.” 

Victoria wanted to scream. She wanted to smash everything in sight. She wanted to storm the Prydwen, and she especially wanted to kill Knight Lukas and Proctor Quinlan and every single Brotherhood affiliate responsible for this entire debacle. 

“What’s all this commotion?” Hancock was standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face. His hat was slightly askew. Piper jogged up behind him. 

Victoria clawed at her scalp, grabbing handfuls of hair. “I’m going to get a signal grenade. I’ll tear their fucking ship apart I swear to g-”

Nick snapped: “Bring the Brotherhood back here? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Hancock and Piper went unacknowledged as Victoria argued with Nick. Victoria felt like a ticking time bomb. She had never been the type to jump into action without weighing every possible outcome and consequence, but her extreme need to protect Danse made her throw all logic out the window. She had never felt so irrational.

“Would someone like to tell us what the hell is going on?” Piper shouted over top of their bickering. Nick and Victoria started, turning to the two annoyed and concerned faces still standing in the doorway. 

Victoria ran her hands down her face, exasperated. Nick explained the situation to them while Victoria paced around the front room. Time was ticking and nothing was being done. If the Brotherhood had Danse, they could have reached just about anywhere in the Commonwealth with all the time she and her friends were wasting talking. Victoria was about to voice that fact when the settler bell rang.

Preston had rung it to gather everyone and alert them that Danse still hadn’t been found. They all stood around making plans as the daylight hours quickly faded. Small groups were assigned to search nearby areas and others to head to nearby settlements. Not much could be done with the meagre twenty-or-so people who lived in Sanctuary; many had to stay behind to continue farming and defending the settlement. Victoria’s frustration only grew.

After all the plans were made- plans that Victoria wasn’t listening to as she wandered aimlessly around the area- Nick came up to her. 

“Piper and I will head back to Diamond City in the morning, see if we can’t get any info. In the meantime, you should stay here in case he comes back. Maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding.” He sighed, adjusting his jacket. “It’s gonna be fine, kid. Just stay here.” 

Nick bade her goodnight and left to find Piper.

“Like hell I will,” she muttered to herself and she strode angrily back to the house. She couldn’t believe they were waiting until tomorrow. It wasn’t enough. They should have left to find him hours ago. _Nick used to be a cop!_ She thought to herself. _He should know that the first few hours are the most important, what the hell are we doing standing around-_

Not watching where she was going, she marched right into Hancock, almost knocking him over. She muttered an apology and tried to step around him. He stopped her.

“It’s alright, doll,” Hancock said as he pulled her into a hug, his smoky scent surrounding her. “We’ll find him, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine. The big lug probably just fell down somewhere.”

“That’s not funny, John,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“Sorry.”

She let him hold her for a few moments. Then he stood back, holding her at arm’s length. “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself until we find him. I’ll help you look for him tomorrow. So don’t go doing anything stupid, okay?”

“I won’t,” she lied. 

\---

She waited for the cover of darkness before she snuck around the back of Sanctuary and headed towards the Red Rocket. That was still where she kept her all her possessions and power armor. She had renovated the old fuel station what felt like eons ago. It was her first home-base, her first real sanctuary after she had woken up from the deep freeze, and she liked having a place to herself. After she had convinced Danse to stay in the Commonwealth, she thought maybe he could live at the Red Rocket if he wasn’t comfortable staying in Sanctuary. But he had wanted to stay by her side, and she had secretly been glad.

The old generator was still running, keeping the building lit. She half-heartedly searched the few rooms for Danse, but found nothing.

Above the bed in the back room was the orange Brotherhood flag she had once proudly pinned up. Danse had given it to her at the police station after they had been travelling together for a few months. It was one of the only gifts he had ever given her, and he had stood behind her while she hung it up, _Paladin Danse_ , tall and gallant, radiating pride and encouragement. It was the first time she had ever felt a part of something. She felt important. And most importantly, she felt like someone was proud of her. The flag glowed, a grand and valiant image in a bleak and immoral world.

_“It feels good, doesn’t it soldier?” Danse’s deep voice was warm and happy. The first genuine smile that she had ever seen from him graced his lips._

_“Yeah,” she beamed up at him after jumping down off the bed. “But, could you please call me Victoria? When we aren’t on a mission?”_

_“I- alright,” he stuttered, cheeks flushing lightly, stoic façade momentarily broken. “It feels good, doesn’t it… Victoria.”_

_Her heart skipped a beat and she grinned. “Yes. It does.”_

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the now faded and dusty flag. Without thinking, she lunged at it, grabbing it with both hands and tearing it off the wall. The sound of fabric shredding as the flag was ripped into pieces was muffled by her guttural howl as she hurled the orange tatters across the room. She stood there, chest heaving, hands balled into fists, as tears ran freely down her cheeks. 

Danse had been by her side nearly every day since she had met him. If he were here now, she knew he would tell her to pick herself up, dust herself off, and keep going. So she did. 

Wiping her wet face with her dirt covered sleeve, she made her way to the garage. 

Danse’s suit of BoS power armor stood tall and gleaming at the armor station. Rummaging through her steamer trunk, she grabbed a fusion core, a signal grenade, and the laser rifle Danse had given her after their first mission together. She glanced at the armor and took a quick breath before jamming the fusion core into the slot and climbing in. The suit hissed and groaned. It still smelled like him. She jammed her gun into the holster and marched out of the door, towards the empty field behind the Red Rocket. The night was still and silent. 

Pulling the pin, she tossed the vertibird signal grenade a few feet away and waited. The plumes of red smoke spiraled towards the sky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She was out the door before he had time to finish his sentence, jumping through the hatch door and landing on the command deck. She stumbled on the stairs – she had told Danse a million times she wasn’t strong enough to wear this damn armor- but caught herself at the last minute, and sprinted towards the newly arrived vertibird. Sprinting in power armor looked more like jogging at an easy pace, but Victoria knew better than to take it off given what she was about to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not usually one for using in-game dialogue but it was really the only way to do it.

_“Reporting in as ordered, sir,” she said through gritted teeth. Leaving Danse at Listening Post Bravo hadn’t been easy, but he had insisted she return to the Prydwen as per Maxson’s orders, and that he would wait for her until she got back. She would have been content staying in that bunker with him forever and never laying eyes on the Brotherhood again, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. She just hoped he wouldn’t do something rash before she got back._

_Maxson turned around, arms behind his back. “I want to make one thing clear, Winter: This conversation will be the last time we speak about Danse. As far as the Brotherhood of Steel is concerned, he’s dead. Do you understand?”_

_Her jaw clenched as she considered her response. As much as she wanted to tear him apart, she decided to keep it as civil as she could manage. “No, I don’t understand it. I’ll never understand it. I can’t believe you would do this to him after everything he’s done for you. But, I… won’t mention him again.”_

_“I suggest you don’t,” Maxson threatened. “Now, Danse’s execution created a missing link in our chain of command. That traitor held quite an important position.”_

_Victoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As badly as she wanted to yell at him, punch him, swear at him, she stayed quiet._

_“I’m certain you’ll make a fine replacement.” Maxson continued. “His quarters and all his possessions are now yours, including his personal suit of power armor. Congratulations, Paladin.”_

_She gawked at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”_

_“Which part of that was unclear?”_

_“He hasn’t been ‘dead’ a day and you’re already handing out his stuff?!”_

_Maxson smirked. “To the victor go the spoils.”_

_Eyes wide, she took a step back. Her stomach churned. She felt ill._

_Quickly, she turned around and left. She wanted to run, but didn’t want to look as if she was fleeing._

_How could he do this? And smile about it?_

_She climbed the ladder to the main deck, foot slipping off one of the rungs in her haste to get as far away from Maxson as she could without jumping off the flight deck. She ran down the stairs immediately to the left when she reached the main deck; it was usually quiet on the lower level and she needed a moment to process what had just happened. There was one Lancer sitting on a crate smoking a cigarette, and he stared at her as she approached._

_“What are you looking at?” She snapped. He scowled at her and she kept walking, down towards where they kept the crates of nukes her and Danse had acquired from Fort Strong. She threw herself down on the floor between two crates and put her head in her shaking hands._

_A voice over the intercom startled her out of her thoughts, and she realized she had been sitting there for nearly an hour. Standing, she adjusted her jacket. She was supposed to report to Kells, and did so. After he gave her the new mission, she made her way up to the armor bay._

_She stared mournfully up at Paladin Danse’s empty power armor. It felt wrong seeing it dusty and abandoned. She reached up and touched the chest plate, resting her hand over the Brotherhood sigil painted on the front. Sighing, she walked around behind and opened the suit. The only reason she got in it was because she figured she could at least take it back to him._

_“Congratulations on the promotion!” One of the Knights said as she clomped through the commissary. A few others tried to congratulate her as well, and one clapped her on the back as she walked past. She ignored them and kept walking._

_Danse’s room was immaculate, as she had expected. She stood in the doorway for a few moments, picturing him sitting at the desk doing paper work or organizing files, or standing at the cabinet polishing his weapons and sorting through ammo. A Brotherhood flag hung on a pole near the door. Ammo crates were scattered around the room. There were a few liquor bottles and a pack of cigarettes on the desk. The blades of the desk fan spun idly._

_She swallowed the lump that had begun to form in her throat and picked up one of the wooden crates that sat on the floor. He had very few possessions, but she gathered them up: Papers from his desk, a book she found under the bed, a spare jacket that hung in a locker, an alarm clock, and a few other miscellaneous items. Lastly, she took down his flag, folding it and setting it carefully in the box._

_She took one last look at the room before turning to leave._

_It took her a few days to make it to the bunker; fighting super mutants and running from yao guai while carrying a box full of trinkets wasn’t the easiest thing she had ever done. Finally, she reached Listening Post Bravo, tired and covered in dirt and grime._

_She had worried about Danse the entire time she had been gone, and her heart beat rapidly as the elevator descended. Terrible scenarios of finding him disappeared, dying, or even dead played through her mind in the darkness of the noisy elevator. It rattled as it hit the bottom and the doors creaked open._

_“Danse? I brought you your-” She could only half see him, bent over near the armor station. He was working on what looked like a suit of X-01 armor. “-…power armor?”_

_She stood there for a few moments, confused. (Where the hell did he get that?) The radio was playing lightly in the background. Danse didn’t acknowledge her. Even if he hadn’t heard her speak, she knew there was no way he hadn’t heard the elevator._

_The BoS suit hissed as she climbed out of it. “I guess you don’t need it.”_

_Carefully, she made her way toward him. He stood up as she approached, and she tried not to let the shock and worry show on her face. He looked terrible. He was dirty, bedraggled; his hair looked matted, there were dark circles under his eyes, and a beard was starting to grow on his face. His skin was pale. He was covered in dirt and grease and looked like he hadn’t washed since she left. There was a half-finished bottle of whiskey on the table beside him._

_She hesitated. “I… brought your stuff. I thought you might want some of it.”_

_His eyes were sad, and he stumbled as he walked towards her, catching himself on the table. Her heart wrenched. She set the box down in front of him._

_“Thank you,” he rasped._

\-----

She strode through the Prydwen, armored feet stomping on the metal decks. She had never liked wearing power armor, but she feared the possibility of violence and had no one to watch her back. She had a fleeting thought that maybe she should have asked Nick or Hancock to come with her, to be her voice of reason and keep her from doing something stupid, but she hated bringing them near the Brotherhood. All the sly and rude comments about the _synth_ or the _ghoul_ made her trigger finger twitch. 

Marching into Proctor Quinlan’s office, she loudly cleared her throat.

“Ah, Paladin. Here to help on a research pa-”

“No, Quinlan,” she interrupted, a bit more aggressively than she had intended. The offended look on his face usually would have made her apologize, but she felt no sympathy now. “I’m looking for a particular Scribe. Part of Knight Lukas’ crew. I don’t know her name, but I need to speak with her immediately.”

“What’s this about?” Quinlan adjusted his glasses, studying her suspiciously.

Victoria pursed her lips. “It’s a private matter that I would rather not discuss.”

There was a pause before Quinlan said: “Knight Lukas is out on a research patrol with a couple scribes at the moment, so you are going to have to wait until they get back if you wish to speak with them.”

“So that’s what his cover is,” she muttered to herself.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is this patrol up near Concord by any chance?”

“No, they are scouting down near-” Quinlan paused, eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”

“Do vertibirds record flights or locations?”

“You sure are full of questions today. All of our vertibirds have trackers, so yes, we know where they are at all times. Everyone is accounted for, and Knight Lukas’ bird only landed that far north for a few moments. No one else has been in that area for months.”

“Maybe you should ask him what he was doing up there.” With that, she turned around and left Quinlan’s office, pausing in the hallway. The commissary was bustling with soldiers on their breaks. Victoria hadn’t made many friends during her time in the Brotherhood. Most of the time she could tolerate the Scribes that had been on her team, and there were a few Knights whose names she didn’t know that seemed to be friendly enough, but Danse and Haylen were really the only ones that she had taken the time to get to know.

The medic had seemed fine until he made such a big deal about having “ _sexual relations_ ” with a “ _non-human_ ”. Not that she had, but she had plenty of friends who were “non-human” and quite frankly, they were more kind than many of the humans she knew. 

She had liked Teagan, arms dealer extraordinaire, until he sent her on a mission to muscle settlers out of their crops. She hadn’t talked to him since.

“Paladin,” a rough voice came from behind her. A shiver ran up her spine and she turned around to see the angry face of Elder Maxson glaring at her. “Meet me in my quarters, there is something we need to discuss.”

He turned on his heel and marched off, and she reluctantly followed, heart pounding.

Victoria realized in that moment, that, as much as she disliked Maxson, he was the only person besides Haylen that had given Danse a chance. 

Sure, he had sent her to destroy him. And then followed her, and tried to convince her again to kill him. He had banished Danse from the only thing that meant something to him, and threatened to kill him if he came near his only home. It had all been pretty terrible.

But she supposed she couldn’t be entirely mad at him.

If Danse had come back to the Brotherhood, after word got out that he was a synth, life would have been hell for him on board the Prydwen. Aside from all the horrible comments that would have no doubt been made by everyone on board, Victoria doubted anyone would have talked to Danse again, if he had even lived long enough. There would have been people trying to kill him left and right. He never would have been safe, and he certainly would not have been wanted.

So technically, Maxson probably did Danse a service. Whether he meant to or not.

“Sit,” Maxson motioned to the chair facing his desk. Victoria had been so lost in thought she hadn’t registered the trip to his office. A little of the residual anger she still felt toward him had subsided.

“I’ll stand,” she replied immediately. Maxson narrowed his eyes, continuing to glare at her. She shifted, uncomfortable and anxious.

“Very well,” he stood behind the desk, leaning on it with his hands. “We’ve received a… _troubling_ report.”

The statement hung in the air. Victoria was unsure what he could be referring to, other than the incident with Knight Lukas at Sanctuary. She held Maxson’s dark gaze. 

“Was it about how some of your soldiers have been terrorizing my settlements and taking my friends captive?”

Maxson looked surprised. “What?”

“You might want to ask Knight Lukas what he’s been-”

“Firstly, Paladin,” he interrupted, venom in his voice. “Even with your promotion, you are still a soldier, and I am still your superior. You will address me as such. Secondly, Knight Lukas just returned with the tech I sent his team out to find. I told him to-”

She was out the door before he had time to finish his sentence, jumping through the hatch door and landing on the command deck with a considerable crash. Metal feet pounding on the deck, she threw open the door to the flight deck. She stumbled on the stairs – she had told Danse a million times she wasn’t strong enough to wear this damn armor- but caught herself at the last minute, and sprinted towards the newly arrived vertibird that was unloading its gear. Sprinting in power armor looked more like jogging at an easy pace, but Victoria knew better than to take it off given what she was about to do.

Lukas had his back to her, but she could tell it was him by the way his armor gleamed like it had been polished a few too many times. 

She grabbed the collar of his armor with both hands and yanked him around with all her strength. Lukas stumbled, and she took advantage of his momentary loss of balance, throwing him onto his back with a loud clatter. Before he could register what had happened, she was on top of him, hand around his throat.

“What did you do to him?” Victoria snarled. Lukas tried to kick her off but she tightened her grip on his neck.

“What are you talking about?” Lukas gasped. He grabbed at her arms and tried swatting at her head. She dodged his attempts. If she hadn’t caught him off guard, she likely would have been taken out by now.

“WHERE IS HE!?” Victoria yelled in his face. She was vaguely aware the entire flight deck was watching them, and amazed no one made a move to pull her away.

“Who?” He was choking now, face turning red. “Who the fuck are you talking about!?”

Lukas looked and sounded honestly confused. A flicker of doubt flashed across her mind. She ignored it.

“You had him kidnapped when you came to Sanctuary!”

Lukas’ eyebrows creased and he gurgled: “Who!?”

“Paladin!” Maxson roared. “What the hell is going on?!”

Victoria looked up. Maxson was standing at the top of the stairs, steaming. She thought Danse did a good job with intimidating anger; Maxson took it to a whole new level. 

She wasn’t sure if he had just taken a long time to follow her, or if he had been standing there watching the entire time. Either way, she was slowly realizing this may not have been the best strategy.  
Lukas took the opportunity to shove her off of him. Her back hit the railing as the seat of her armor hit the metal of the deck, and she sat, breathing heavily, watching Lukas rub his neck and try to catch his breath. She was beginning to think that the Brotherhood had not, in fact, taken Danse.

“Jesus, Winter!” Lukas barked between gulps of air. “What’s wrong with you?! Kells sent me to get your help for that fucking mission, there weren’t any reports of anyone in power armor. Christ! I made the whole fucking thing up, you idiot! I just wanted to freak you out!” The shouting made him cough. Getting to his knees, he crawled closer to her, grabbing the front of her armor, and continued more quietly: “I still don’t think you killed Danse, and I would still love to kill both of you, but I also don’t think he’s stupid enough to stay in the Commonwealth! God you’re an idiot.”

Victoria stared at him dumbly. There was a loud ringing in her ears.

Lukas shoved her away and got to his feet. One of the Scribes moved to help him, and they started to walk away before Lukas turned back to her. 

“Wait, who the fuck did you think we kidnapped?”

It took a while for the realization to sink in. 

She didn’t look at him. Everything was a blur around her. Her head was pounding, thoughts spinning, mind screaming at her. She started to feel faint, and thought she might be sick.

_What have I done?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long. I applied to a new University and then had a hell week at work and then got my wisdom teeth out so this has been sitting there mostly written for about 3 weeks.

_“How dare you betray the Brotherhood?!”_

_Danse had stepped out of the building before her while she rummaged through the ammo bag near the elevator to pick up the few things she had stored there for safekeeping. Something didn’t feel right as she approached the door: Why was it so quiet? Where had Danse gone? The moment she stepped out of the door she heard Maxson’s roar, and it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head. She stopped dead in her tracks. Danse was a few feet ahead of her, facing Maxson with his hands raised._

_“It's not her fault, it's mine.” Danse said to him, trying to step his way in front of Victoria to shield her from Maxson’s fury._

_“I'll deal with you in a moment.” Maxson growled. “Knight! Why has this thing not been destroyed?”_

_Victoria stared at Maxson, eyes wide. For some foolish reason she had not expected him to follow her. She should have realized faking Danse’s death would not be easy._

_“He’s not a thing,” she said simply, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice. “He’s still Danse. He’s one of your best soldiers! And he’s my frie-”_

_“Danse isn't a man, it's a machine.” Maxson interrupted, livid. “It wasn't born from the womb of a loving mother, it was grown within the cold confines of a laboratory. Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine. The two were never meant to intertwine.”_

_“It's true,” Danse still had his hands raised, but had stopped shuffling his way in between Maxson and Victoria. He stood strong, but his shoulders were stooped. “I was built within the confines of a laboratory, and some of my memories are not my own. But when I saw my brothers dying at my feet, I felt sorrow. When I defeated an enemy of the Brotherhood, I felt pride. And when I heard your speech about saving the Commonwealth, I felt hope!”_

_As Danse spoke, Victoria slowly began moving closer to him. It was obvious this was not going to end well. She wished she had put the power armor back on; she could have shielded Danse from any bullets, or even taken Maxson down. She surprised herself with how quickly she would have been ready to kill him. No second thoughts. No hesitation._

_Victoria was surprised to note Maxson hadn’t brought backup._

_Danse was still speaking: “Don't you understand? I thought I was human, Arthur. From the moment I was taken in by the Brotherhood, I've done absolutely nothing to betray your trust and I never will.” The sincerity in Danse’s voice should have convinced anyone of his honesty._

_Maxson puffed his chest out. “It's too late for that now. The Institute has foolishly chosen to grant you life. You should simply not exist. I don't intend to debate this any longer. My orders stand.”_

_Maxson turned expectantly to Victoria. She was now a mere foot from Danse’s side, hand on the pistol that hung on her hip._

_Danse turned to Victoria, a sad smile on his face. “It's alright. We did our best. Whatever you decide, know that I'll go to my grave with no anger and no regrets.”_

_“Touching,” Maxson taunted. “Either you execute Danse, or I will. The choice is yours.”_

_Victoria hesitated. Staring into Danse’s dark, chocolate eyes, she slowly pulled out her pistol and raised it towards his chest. The brief look of betrayal and hurt that she saw flicker across his face before he hid it brought tears to her eyes._

_She stood there for a moment, gun pointed at Danse. Her hands shook. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Danse smiled and closed his eyes. Valiant, as ever._

_Then, she took a step forward, placing herself between Danse and Maxson. The smile faded from Maxson’s face as she brought her gun up and pointed it at his head._

_“If you want Danse, you’re gonna have to go through me.”_

_There was a stunned silence._

_“You would seriously give your life to protect a machine.”Maxson said, incredulous._

_Victoria said nothing. Her only answer was to keep her gun pointed at Maxson, fierce determination written on her face. If her time in the Brotherhood had proved anything, it was that she was stubborn beyond belief. Stubborn, and naïve._

_Victoria would not have hesitated to pull the trigger on Maxson. She was not usually one to act without thinking, without considering every possible consequence, but Danse had an anomalous effect on her. He was strong, and quite capable of protecting himself, but she found she had a constant, urgent need to protect him. To save him._

_Once it became clear Victoria was not going to back down, Maxson continued: “So…It seems we've reached an impasse. Allowing Danse to live undermines everything the Brotherhood stands for, yet you insist that he remains alive. Which leaves me with only one alternative.”_

_Victoria braced herself. Her hand tightened on her gun, finger just touching the trigger. She widened her stance, one foot moving back. Her heel bumped against Danse’s boot._

_“Danse,” Maxson said, clasping his arms behind his back. “As far as I am concerned, you are dead. You were pursued and slain by this Brotherhood Knight, and your remains were incinerated. From this day forward, you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen or speak to anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel. Should you choose to ignore me, know that you will be fired upon immediately.”_

_“Thank you, Elder.”_

_“Do not mistake my mercy for acceptance,” he snapped. Then, he turned to Victoria. “I am returning to the Prydwen, Knight. Take some time, say your goodbyes and then I expect to see you there.”_

_“Don’t count on it.”_

_Danse tensed. Maxson turned back to her. “Excuse me?”_

_“I said yes, sir.” She made sure the sarcasm and contempt dripped from her words._

_She kept her gun raised until Maxson got into his vertibird and left. She let out a sigh, and with it left the tension in her shoulders. They had succeeded. They were safe._

The door to Maxson’s quarters slammed, rattling the items hanging on the wall. Victoria flinched, eyes closed, as she sat in the chair facing his desk. They had confiscated her power armor and weapons, and she was honestly surprised Maxson hadn’t just picked her up and thrown her overboard right then and there.

Instead, he had informed Lukas and those watching that Victoria was simply searching for a missing settler, and ushered her aggressively back to his quarters.

“What the hell was that?” Maxson thundered, slamming his hands down on his desk.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that, sir.” Victoria stammered, avoiding eye contact. She was unconsciously running her hands up and down her thighs, sweaty palms wiping on the rough fabric of her jeans. Her gaze went everywhere except the Elder’s face.

“Which part?” he seethed. “Disrespecting Proctor Quinlan? Running out on me while I was speaking to you? Or assaulting one of my Knights in front of the entire crew?”

When he stopped, clearly waiting for an answer, Victoria said: “A-All of it, sir.”

“I should demote you right here and now.” Maxson began pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “But for some reason, I do not believe it would have the desired effect.”

He stopped pacing and briefly looked her up and down. Her clothes were dirty and stained. Her hair, tied back with a piece of string, was knotted and full of dust. Her eyes were bloodshot. Maxson was silent as he noted the state of her. He had never quite been able to figure her out. She had an odd effect on those around her, and a disconcerting way of convincing people to do what she wanted. Not in the sense of being manipulative; she was simply so perplexing and innocent that one could not help but want to assist her.

Maxson resumed pacing. “I don’t know what that was about, but I have a pretty good idea. And now I am going to be running interference for the next week until people forget about your little outburst.”

“But sir-”

“Do not interrupt me!” he bellowed. “So help me God, Winter, you are the most insubordinate nuisance I have ever had the displeasure of commanding!”

Why do people keep calling me that? She thought to herself.

Maxson’s face was red and his normally perfect, combed back hair was hanging in his eyes. He looked old beyond his years. It had taken Victoria months to believe he was only twenty; she had thought everyone in the Brotherhood was stringing her along on some odd, terribly unamusing joke. At merely twenty-one herself, she still had a difficult time believing he was younger than her.

They should have been going to college together, not fighting a war.

“I should have killed both you and Danse when I had the opportunity. But instead, I let you live, and my life has been hell ever since.”

When Victoria remained silent, he took a breath and continued:

“We received a ransom note this morning.” Maxson had started rearranging papers on his desk. “Apparently, a group of Gunners is holding one of our soldiers captive.”

The confusion was clear on her face. “Okay… so what does that have to do with me?”

When he looked up, his glare was the most intense she had ever seen. Worse than any time she had spoken out of turn or said something rude. Worse than any time she had argued or called him out. Worse even than the time she had shielded Danse from his wrath. Her entire body tensed.

“They want one-hundred thousand caps, and an armory full of weapons and ammo, in exchange for a certain _Paladin Danse_.”

She sat in stunned silence, eyes locked with Maxson’s. The shocked expression on her face turned to fear as she went over the events of that day in her mind: Danse must have gone into the backyard or out into the woods behind Sanctuary to wait out the Brotherhood visit. He must have realized her plan for him to stay put was not the best; if the Knights had decided to come into Sanctuary, it would have been much more difficult for Danse to hide. She figured the Gunners must have been planning an attack on Sanctuary, and seen a greater opportunity in taking Danse hostage. When they saw his Brotherhood holotags- which, curse her, she had given back to him and told him to wear- they must have realized how much greater an opportunity it truly was.

“-But since he’s dead, I don’t see how that could have happened. Obviously, we won’t be rescuing a soldier who no longer exists.”

Victoria wanted to plead, to beg Maxson to help her rescue him. But she decided against it; he had already shown enough lenience with Danse, and with her. She didn’t want to push her luck. She would have to find Danse on her own, and she would burn down the entire Commonwealth to get him back if she had to.

“But, in any case, here is the ransom note. They are at an unmarked location, presumably a bunker, south of Fort Hagen. They have given two weeks to comply.”

She hesitantly took the note, searching his face for any kind of clue.

“If, hypothetically, one were to mount a rescue, they would have to act fairly quickly.”

“Understood, sir,” she saluted as she stood, and made a hasty move toward the door.

“Winter?”

She turned around. “Sir?”

“Your power armor is in the armor bay. I would advise against attempting this alone.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She exited, and started toward the armor bay, determination in her stride. She would rescue Paladin Dans _e, and nothing would get in her way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes part 1! I decided this was getting a little long, and the next bits will have some different characters, so the rescue and etc. will take place in part 2, titled Saving Paladin Danse.
> 
> This has come a lot further than I had ever planned, considering I wasn’t even going to continue it after the first chapter. It’s my first fanfic ever and I’m enjoying writing it a lot more than I thought I would.
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has stuck with it!


End file.
